


It's Been A Long Day

by parisian_girl



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 13:57:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parisian_girl/pseuds/parisian_girl
Summary: Actually, it's been a long week. In the aftermath of a case gone wrong, it's just Phryne, Jack, and the rain.





	It's Been A Long Day

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a summer rain storm, a long week of my own, and Rosi Golan (http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=N3TOb72MEuY). Completely unedited and pretty short, but sometimes I like to write raw. Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> I've left this open in the hope that I might actually write the scene which comes after....but don't hold your collective breath ;).

All she could hear was the rain.

It was quiet summer rain. Rain that fell softly and gently, embracing the warmth of the day that had passed rather than dissipating it. Rain that slipped slowly down the window and rustled through the leaves almost apologetically. Rain that made a music all of its own, perhaps a solo piano rather than a symphony, an intimate waltz of water and earth. Music for the late hours. It filled her every sense, drawing her in tenderly, comforting her, emptying her mind of all the doubt and uncertainty and fear of the past two days and leaving her with nothing but the sound.

She felt no connection with her reflection in the window, drawn in soft, blurry tones of firelight against the darkness outside. The rain took with it any definition, until all that was left was a pale face, a slash of faded red lipstick, and green eyes that looked like they were crying.

She hugged her knee closer to her chest, the other leg curled under her body on the windowsill. It was wide and she was small, and she had wanted to tuck herself away. Even with only herself to entertain tonight, owning the room like she usually did had felt like too much. Dot and Mr Butler had left her alone, worried though they were, and she had no idea if they were still up. The rain washed away all traces of time. It didn’t really matter, anyway, whether it was late night, or early morning, or somewhere in between. She was exhausted beyond caring. Her body felt too heavy to carry her up the stairs to bed, and so she stayed. The constant, hypnotic patter of tiny rain drops numbed her battered mind, and she imagined them on her body as well, cleansing her of the bruises and finger marks that she could still feel.

She knew she was lucky to be sitting there, but for once she hadn’t felt like celebrating. She hadn’t felt anything apart from a deep emptiness, and a longing for something that she couldn’t name.

The car outside sounded far away. As if from a dream, or the dream of a dream. A part of her knew who it was, even at this late hour, but she made no move to get up. Her eyes thought they saw him even in the darkness, walking quickly through the gate and up the path, head bowed to the weather, and just as her imaginary figure reached the front door she heard the usual knock. Mr Butler’s footsteps, muffled voices. The door opening behind her. Still, she didn’t move.

Everything felt like it had happened to someone else. Everything but the rain.

She saw his reflection take shape alongside hers in the window, the sharpness of pomade softened on dark hair, the strong face and jaw made indistinct by the rivulets running down the glass. She watched him hesitate.

She wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought she saw his lips say her name.

His footsteps were silent, only the movement of his reflection giving him away. As he drew closer, she could see the worry revealing itself in his features, the tiredness and anxiety in his eyes, and something else too, something that she couldn’t describe but that came so close to fitting her own nameless longing that she shivered. His warmth was behind her now, his familiar scent mingling with the freshness of the rain and the steam coming off the earth and the fragrance of peach trees.

She felt his hand on her shoulder, and something in her shattered.

She had no idea how long they stayed there, hot tears running unbidden down her cheeks and his arms around her. When she heard soft whispers in her ear, she didn’t know if it was him or the raindrops; his fingers that were cool and soothing on the bare skin of her arms, or the leaves of the trees that were murmuring in the breeze that had picked up outside. She thought she heard him murmur that he had been terrified, that he thought he had lost her, that he loved her, and she thought she murmured something back through her tears but wasn’t sure.

Love. Was that what she hadn’t been able to name?

When her tears finally subsided, she lifted her head and caught his gaze in the window, their reflections softened at the edges and dancing with water and the dying glow of the firelight, and yet somehow more real than she had ever seen them before. All pretence gone, all denial washed away. She felt cleansed and raw and vulnerable, and suddenly she needed to feel him. She needed to feel alive, and she needed to know that he was there with her.

She reached out for his hand, her eyes asking the question because she didn’t trust her voice, and he nodded.

_Come on, love_. His voice - if that was his voice, and not just her imagination - was quiet, and deep. She felt his fingers tighten around hers, his desire washing over them both, and closed her eyes as she uncurled her body and drew herself shakily to her feet. His lips brushed hers, the heat in them a sharp contrast to the coolness of his hand, the gentleness of his arms and the rain. She shivered again, her whole body tingling as he turned to lead her towards the chaise.

She smiled, a small smile that no one except her reflection saw. He had realised that she wasn’t quite ready to leave the nest she had built for herself, cocooned by the rain and the darkness and the fireglow, but she was ready to welcome him into it.

With a last look at the pale, smudged face in the window, she turned and followed him into the room.


End file.
